


Riding the Storm

by Rachrar



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, inappropriate use of Mjolnir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachrar/pseuds/Rachrar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't want Mjolnir, no matter how strong it might make him. No, if he wanted it, it would be for the attention of the maidens swooning over Thor. Loki had trickery and lies, his only companion for the long nights of the forsaken god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding the Storm

Thor was an idiot, Loki concluded as he noticed the Asgardian king-to-be drinking more than even Volstagg and speaking more than the ever loud Fandral. Loki rested his chin on his hand, sighing. These was not the manners of a king. These were the manners of a brute, or a child, which, Loki admitted, Thor was very much of. Compared to Odin and Freya herself they were buck younglings and it showed in the immature blond's actions. But, try as he might, the god of mischief could manage nothing but to stare and sigh.

He wasn't strong enough to lift Mjolnir. Not nearly. It wasn't even close to his strength level, the weight of the hammer unable to move or shift or even roll if the handle was straight up. Granted, it wasn't from lack of trying, and he was sure that if he magicked himself stronger it might not be beyond his grasp. However, as it stood, it wasn't in his ability. He didn't care either. He didn't want Mjolnir, no matter how strong it might make him, Odin's second, forgotten son.

No, if he wanted it, it would be for the attention of the maidens swooning over Thor when he flashed a smile their way, the easy nature of the Warriors Three and Lady Sif making powerful, loyal friends. Loki had that not. Loki had trickery and lies, his only companion for the long nights of the forsaken god.

He needed to get attention, he mused to himself, sipping at the mead on the table whereas his brother swallowed it in massive gulps. When Thor finished the cup, true to style, he threw the golden chalice to the ground and demanded more, which the servants eagerly obeyed. When Loki finished his though, none came to fill it or replace it. Loki wasn't as flashy as his elder brother when it came to such things. He felt no compulsion to destroy the shining goblets provided lovingly by their parents.

Well, provided lovingly to Thor. Loki was given books where Thor was given attention. When Thor requested some pet or another, he would receive it. When Thor wanted Mother to help him write a poem to get Sif's attention, she would help. When he demanded Father to assist him in training, Father would rumble and rattle, but in the end, stand and spar. Loki was lucky to get his books. It was just too obvious who was the more loved.

Loki understood why, which is why he didn't complain or make a fuss. Where Thor was powerful, strong, and a warrior, Loki was small, weak, and a sorcerer. Not that Asgard could live without either of them, but the warriors were given so much attention, lavished with presents, and heaped with praise. Sorcerers were looked down on as those who could not do anything better. They were the lesser, the inferior. And while Loki resented it with a burning passion, he could do nothing about it. As much as he knew Odin was magickal, he also knew he backed up his magick with strength, which Loki had not. Loki had only his cleverness.

He exploited it to its fullest, too, trying to be noticed. He played pranks on all those who would stay still long enough or move in the right way. Thor was the most common merely for convenience. Thor trusted him in a way that make Loki's gut twist. He saw Loki's playful nature for what it was, not as an irritant, like most of the other gods. He saw it as fun and entertaining, laughing at even his own idiocy when he fell for them. But the rest were bitter, a love-hate relationship strong between Loki and the gods, even his parents. Loki knew the limits and knew when to toe them as well as when to back off, but none appreciated his subtlety. They merely saw immaturity and childishness.

But this prank tonight was anything but childish. He waited for Thor to get as drunk as he possibly could without passing out then put a hand on his arm gently. Thor immediately turned with a bleary gaze, a silly grin on his lips. "Bro'derrrrrrrrrr," he slurred. "Hail, Bro'der, hail th' mea'!" he picked up the last goblet from the table and slammed it back before dropping it on the table with a racuous rattle, giggling like a babe at the sound.

Loki pressed back a faint headache and tugged. Thor complied, standing. "Whe- where 're we goin'?" he asked, stumbling. Loki may not have been as strong as Thor, but he was more than strong enough to stop his brother from toppling over, leading them to Thor's bedchambers after making sure Thor had grabbed his hammer. He let the drunkard fall to the bed, Mjolnir falling to the floor with a heavy crash that resounded through the palace. It was a common enough noise with the festivities of Thor being crowned king within a few days, so no guards came to rush by in confusion or curiosity.

Loki rolled Thor over into his bed before glancing to the hammer. It was on its side, making his planned prank a bit difficult. "Thor," he said softly in his brother's ear, "Thor, wake, I need your assistance."

Thor awoke with a stupid grunt, looking confused and groggy. "Wha'?"

"Tilt Mjolnir so it lays on its head," Loki replied. Thor snorted and muttered some poorly understood words about Loki being weak and did so, shifting the hammer onto the soft bed, where, of course, it made a rather heavy indent. The bed was more than strong enough, though ,and bore it willingly, bouncing faintly even. Loki's emerals eyes shone with pleasure at that, pressing down on the hammer. It rebounded with a faint jump and his eyes gleamed with the promise of a good time. Perfect.

"Go to sleep, brother," he told Thor who happily complied, turning into a snoring mess. Loki tch'd at Thor's easily manipulated nature but merely took it for what it was. In a moment, he was above Thor, hips lightly straddling the bulkier male. Licking his lips and staring down at the brother he loved so very much, he unbuttoned his trousers, revealing an impressive erection. The movements of freeing it made him whimper slightly, but it was masked easily with a soft cough. Now he would get what he had wanted for so very long.

He slowly stroked at himself, knowing his own pleasure most, thin fingers delicate in their brushes as he rose further, harder and thicker. With only a little prompting and wriggling, he was seated upon Thor, careful to keep his precum from dripping to the armor Thor wore, instead catching it on the inside of Thor's cloak, making a mental note to wash it that night.

He groaned when Thor shifted under him from his dream, fingers playing with the head in just the right way that he moaned again. He was ready, he decided, changing position to be before the hammer at Thor's side, resting with legs splayed on the bed and bent back at the knee under himself, rocking his cock into his hand desperately. Using the precum as a base and the small vial of oil from his pocket, he slipped a long digit within himself and moaned more loudly as he found his sweet spot almost instantly. His clever fingers were deft and he soon added another, riding his digits like a wanton whore before he changed position once more.

He poured the rest of the vial of oil on the end of Mjolnir, eyes locked on the leather bound handle of the hammer, a few drops of oil falling from the strap onto the stone of the head only to shine in the light of the candles. Loki licked his lips again, eyes locked on the hammer as he positioned himself above it, teasing himself with bare brushes against his puckered entrance. When he could no longer stand it, he pressed down slowly. It was thin, but the power in the hammer was like an electric trob, making him arch back, head rolling back and eyes watching the ceiling pull away as he finally pressed down on the length of the hammer, cheeks firmly pressed on the stone.

"Nnnnnghh..." he managed as a jolt sent a thrill through his body, then rose slowly again to thrust himself back down on the hammer harder. The bed went with the motion, pressing back up with the power of momentum and making him cry out loudly into the night in surprise, rising only to meet the thrust up with one of his own back down, riding the handle harder and faster with every bounce.

"Y-yessssss," he purred out, eyes half-lidded, hands clawing on the bedcovers, nails digging into the cloth as the strap of the hammer shifted to rub in a new way. In response, Loki moaned yet louder, all but yelping before giving a shiver and grinding down on it, loving the feel of the rough leather on his sensitive tissue and on the prostate, reveling in the power of Mjolnir giving him heady, throbbing shocks every now and then.

They sped up, and in his surprise, he cried out Thor's name before biting his lip. He was being too loud. There would be confusion if the guards were to hear that, at the very least. At worst, Mother and Father might find out, which would be problematic. Instead, he bit his lip harder as the shocks changed in nature to a heavy flow up and then back down, matching his movements on the handle, almost as though the hammer was thrusting up into him and growing thicker. It was beautiful and wonderful and oh, it was nothing like Loki had ever experienced. Surely he would repeat this again.

With a final cry, he met the peak of pleasure without warning, white spurting from his manhood to stain the noble red of Thor's cloak, making Loki smirk to himself before sinking down on the hammer, tired. The shocks were softer, now, almost soothing and he purred at the loving sensation, head hanging as he panted, trying to regain himself. Before he could, Thor's hand was on Loki's thigh in a gentle grasp, making the dark-haired male spin to stare, red-faced and embarrassed. Words failed him, though, when he saw Thor's still half-drunk, half-pleased smile and Thor's own manhood hard in his trousers.

"Brother, why do you insist on being so alone?" Thor asked, picking Loki up as though he weighed nothing and set him down by himself, uncaring of the mess and merely smiling teasingly. "Honestly, it's like you never thought I'd join you one day."

Loki stared, tensing and arching like a cat away. "You're lying to me," he said, mortified. "Brother, look away, I- I am sorry for defiling your hammer-"

He was cut off by a strong but loving kiss from his whiskery brother, the prickles of a beard quite pleasant. When Thor pulled away, he had a much more pliant Loki on his lap, molding their outlines together into one highly pleasant mess. "Now... why don't you ride me instead of Mjolnir? I'm fairly certain I'd enjoy it more..."

Loki's laugh echoed through the palace.


End file.
